


Going, Going, Gone

by rpfwriters



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Gen, Language, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpfwriters/pseuds/rpfwriters
Summary: It’s time for the mustache to go.





	Going, Going, Gone

It had been too long since you’d been able to fully gaze upon Chris’s beautiful face. Granted, he was still beautiful, but that mustache changed his face in ways you’d never imagined. But it was the last day of Lobby Hero, and the minute he stepped through the apartment door, the mustache was going to be taken care of.

“Bye,” you mumbled under your breath as you set out everything you would need.

It was late when he got back, later than usual, but you’d expected that, considering it was the last show. A grin spread across his face when he saw you sitting at the kitchen table in nothing but one of his t-shirts, and the implements to remove the mustache spread out on the table beside you.

“Y/N? What’s all this?” He dropped his backpack and jacket on the chair, and bent down to pet Dodger, who was impatiently waiting at his feet. One eyebrow was cocked in that unbelievably sexy way he had.

You rose to your feet, crooked a finger at him, and pointed at the chair you’d been sitting in. “Time to say goodbye to the pornstache,” you said.

“Really?” Chris laughed, following your directions. “You hate it that much?”

“I just want to see that gorgeous face of yours,” you murmured, leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder, your forehead resting against his. “Without the mustache.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. “Go for it.”

You grinned, checked to make sure you had everything you needed, then you threw one leg over him and sat down, squirming just a little.

Chris groaned, his hands on your waist, sliding down to pull up your t-shirt, his calloused fingers brushing over your skin, settling on your bare ass. You could feel him hardening beneath the thick denim of his jeans. He stretched up and caught your lips in his, kissing you, that damn mustache tickling your upper lip.

You put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him away. “Not yet,” you scolded. “First the mustache, then the fun.”

“Ugh, fine,” he mumbled, dropping his hands to rest them on your thighs. The eyebrow went up again, but you refused to give in.

You grabbed the electric razor, the small one he used for trimming his beard - when he had one - and quickly trimmed the mustache as short as possible, the hairs falling onto his broad chest, covering the white shirt he was wearing. Once you were done with that, you grabbed the shaving cream and sprayed a small dollop in your hand. You used the tip of your finger to spread it over his upper lip and one dot on his nose, which made him chuckle under his breath.

“Hurry it up,” he growled.

You wiped your hand off on a small hand towel, then you picked up the razor, a brand new one, right out of the package, your hand poised over his face, staring into Chris’s crystal blue eyes. He tipped his chin in the briefest of nods, giving you permission to rid his face of the offending mustache.

The razor slid over his face easily, removing all traces of what you’d playfully called his eighties, Top Gun, pornstache since he’d revealed it for the show. For something that had been around for so long - forever it seemed - it was quick work to get rid of it. Four, maybe five, swipes of the razor and you were staring at the face you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

You wiped the excess shaving cream off of his face with the corner of the towel, set the razor on the table, and wrapped your hands around the back of his neck.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he grinned. “Can I get a kiss now?”

“Mmm, you can get more than that,” you giggled. You shoved your hand under his shirt and pushed it up and off, dropping it to the floor. You leaned over to kiss him, your hands slowly caressing the tight muscles of his stomach.

Chris cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss, pushing his hand between your bodies, his fingers teasing you, making you squirm even more. Chris’s arousal was pressed against your leg, his fingers tangled in your hair, one finger slipping into you, slowly pumping in and out, stretching you open.

You moaned and pushed yourself down on his fingers, desperate for more friction, your fingers digging into Chris’s shoulders.

“Open my pants,” he growled.

You quickly obeyed, popping the button and sliding down the zipper, Chris’s hips coming up just enough for him to push his jeans and boxers down past the bottom of his ass, freeing his hard cock. You took him in your hand, roughly stroking him, spreading the pre-come down his shaft. God, you wanted him, wanted him to fuck you senseless, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. You rose up on your toes and lowered yourself onto Chris’s cock, moaning as he filled you, loving the blissed out look on his face as your tight walls took him in.

Chris’s hands slid down your sides and cupped your ass, urging you to move. You rocked forward, your hands on his shoulders, riding him hard and fast, your mouth on his, kissing him as if you’d never kissed him before, a moan building in the back of your throat as you chased your orgasm. Chris’s fingers dug into your ass, marking you, but you didn’t care, you never cared.

You rested your forehead against his, groaning as the pleasure exploded out of you, shooting stars behind your eyes, intense sensations burning through every vein.

Chris was right behind you, the muscles in his upper body tensing as he held you tight, emptying himself inside of you.

When it was over, you stayed in his Chris’s lap, the two of you lazily kissing, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and tipped his head back, examining his face.

“How’s it look?” he asked.

“So much better,” you giggled. “So, so much better.”


End file.
